


electric harmony

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, NSFW, PWP, too long for its subject
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the only thing they have going for them anymore is the ability to tease each other even when they're cities apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	electric harmony

**Author's Note:**

> 1746 words of too long, too dragging.

There might be a reason she doesn’t take personal calls while she’s studying, but Crystal can’t remember it with her fingers pushing her underwear aside, her legs shifting wider to get a better feel. Her free hand half-mindedly works through an outline for her Biology thesis (due in an hour, and already nearing completion) while she listens to Gold on the other end of the phone cradled between her shoulder and he cheek. His breath is hard and rhythmic; he’s quicker to arouse than her, but he’s also privileged with a roommate who spends more time at the library than around his dorm. _It’s almost like not having one_ , he said after a chuckle, rolling his shoulders after their workout. _It’s way nice._  
  
 _It sounds lonely,_ she replied then, but now she grips her mechanical pencil tighter and thanks God for the lucky break.  
  
“Crys?” He question; his voice is low and heavy, the way her body feels when she’s next to him. She slides open her eyes and twirls her pencil around to erase the words that’ve started to write themselves sideways down her paper. “You’re there alone, right? Make some noise.” His breath hitches on a swear she can’t make out (better for it, maybe) and doesn’t quite smooth out.  
  
“I’m doing schoolwork too,” she replies a note lower than she wanted. He laughs and she licks her lips, feeling lighter with how full his sound is. His reply - that he’d rather be doing her, on the desk she’s sitting at - makes her toes curl and she gasps: “Gold!”  
  
"That’s better," he near-purrs. Crystal feels hot and she trails her hand from her thigh up to the edge of her sweater; she pushes it up over her breasts, ignoring how uncomfortable the two layers feel bunched against her upper arm. She plays with the button on the front of her bra, sighing quietly. His shifting is loud in her ear, a comfort.  
  
When he asks if she’s ready, his phone apparently (and embarrassingly) set to speaker by the volume of his voice, she sets her pencil down flat on her paper and gives an affirmative sound. He whistles, and she can imagine his eyes lidded, watching the glow-in-the-dark stars left over from the roommates the year before, as he talks.  
  
"I’m unbuttoning my pants," he murmurs. A faint zip follows it, and Crystal circles the button on the front of her bra again once before she undoes it. The cold air of her room rushes against her chest, and her skin immediately prickles in response. Imagination is hard to come by when she needs to think about other things - when she should think about other things - but she hardly has to use it when she’s seen it before. The ride of his shirt against his stomach, the way his back curls inwards when he’s kissing her — his name tumbles out of her mouth before she can stop it.  
  
"I haven’t even done anything yet," he chides her and she’d blush if her blood wasn’t concentrated in the heat of her loins.  
  
"Just go on," she huffs. Gold harrumphs in mock-childishness, and Crystal teasingly pinches one of her nipples while she waits for him.  
  
"I’m hard," he languishes after a long moment. Her breathy _how hard_ ghosts over the phone’s receiver, and she listens to him swallow thickly between his words. "Like I’m gonna fucking die. Like I want to fuck the rules and just climb in through your window and fuck you against it instead. Press your tits against the —" he pauses and she hears the bed creak a little. His wince gets louder when he settles back beside his phone. "Okay, maybe not against the window. Glass is cold as hell. Swear my fingertips were gonna fall off."  
  
"It’s winter," she sighs. She imagines herself pressed against it, with Gold behind her and her breasts flat against the glass. Cold meeting hot, with her breath fogging it up. She rolls her hips a little with a stifled moan, smoothing her hand down her stomach and into her underwear to roll her hips against them instead of the air. She doesn’t want to have to ask him to continue again - it’d be begging this time - and feels relief when he clears his throat slightly.  
  
"This time," his voice drops lower, "I’m hard enough to kill."  
  
"You’re a mood killer," Crystal laughs. She stretches in her chair, her toes rubbing against the carpet as she listens to him breath on the other side. When she finishes, she probes the warm silence. "Uh — the thing from before. Pressing…?"  
  
"You against the window," he says without missing a beat. She makes a little _ah_ sound, rolling her hips again. "Shirt off, maybe, or rolled above your tits -- hey, Crys?" She pauses when he does, irritation sweeping past the arousal starting back up from his voice. "What're you wearing?"

"The same thing you saw me in earlier." It's back to lazy circles on her mound, pursing her lips at the coarse hair. Her roommate had mentioned earlier that bare chicks were getting more popular lately; maybe Gold would like the change. He groans over the phone -- she's apparently being unsexy again -- and Crystal rolls her eyes. She waits two counts of her heartbeat, then clears her throat. "Not -- the exact same thing. I rolled my sweater up past my breasts --"

" _Tits._ Tits, Crys, I said tits --"

"-- I know what you said, and I'm not comfortable using the word." The line's quiet after her admonishment and Crystal feels her forehead crinkle. Maybe she'd remember to remind him that they always started squabbling over terminology when they tried doing it over the phone. Maybe one day they wouldn't.

"Are you wet?" Gold asks, before she can continue. Crystal rolls her eyes again and pulls her hand out of her underwear. They're not getting anywhere fast enough for her to have fun playing with herself, but his attempts are good enough to keep her skin fresh with goose-pimples.

"Like a river," she drones. He groans again and she giggles, squeezing her eyes shut. "Gold, are we moving on or are we giving up again?"

"I'd roll up your sweater - why the hell are you wearin' that inside, come on, Crys, it ain't cold in the dorms is it? - past your tits -- I'd warm 'em up with my hands," he grumbles. Irritation or not, he's still sincere about getting past the foreplay stage. Touching. Just like she's doing, ignoring the plot holes in his fantasy. "I don't want your nipples freezin' off. Nothing hot about that."

"There's nothing hot about your humor right now either," she shamelessly mocks back. He laughs - good, she's not the only one trying to make a better mood - and murmurs an apology she accepts with a sigh.

"You get really cute when you're turned on." He clears his throat once, twice, and Crystal's heart hitches on a beat every time. "You get all shy and nervous, even though we've fucked like, what, four times already? We're datin' and you still get all squirmy. But," his voice gets a little more strained and soft, like he's about to give her the answer to life and love and all that, "but it feels so good to see you like that. You were Little Miss Composed during high school and I had a hell of a time flustering you then, but now? _Damn_."

She almost starts to say that he's really not selling her on this, but keeps her mouth shut instead. He had to work up and through tangents, being a storyteller despite his major. Now if only he'd follow his talents and drift into literature.

"And your ears get red. Love 'em when they're like that." He's almost sweet when he talks like this, what they were doing aside. "Don't wear earrings the next time we hang out, all right? I don't wanna accidentally rip one out when you inevitably jerk forward and slam your head against the window. And don't say you ain't gonna," he interrupts her breath, "'cause you're just clumsy enough for that to happen."

He might be right, judging by how many bruises she gives herself moving from class to class.

"Are you just talking at this point," she says instead, "or are you actually getting off on how cute I am?"

"Totally the second," he lies. And she can tell, because all she hears is a clatter in what she imagines to be an attempt to jerk his pants and briefs down to his knees in a hurry. Gold swears something she'd never think of repeating in public and, judging by the louder swear and thump, falls off the bed trying to get his phone back.

All of this, just for a little phone fuck. His words, not hers.

Her other hand drifts after to her pencil and she works through the last few lines of her outline sightlessly, listening to his grumbles and groans. She crinkles her nose when she hears him crumple back onto the bed, breath heavy over the phone - she supposes it's closer to him now. Maybe he's curled up around it. It's easier to imagine him lit up by the light of his phone than she expected it to be, and she makes sure to finish her Biology work while he works himself back up.

"I wish you were here instead," she admits. Gold's moan stifles in her ear and she pulls her sweater down back over her chest. "It's a lot easier when you are."

"It ain't half as fun though." Despite his words, his tone agrees with her. She gets up to dig through her belongings -- where'd she put that vibrator, anyway? -- and Gold hums in her ear. "You wanna hang up first or --"

"We're not stopping," she cuts off. She can almost see Gold's eyebrows rise in her mind. Crystal locates the device and settles back into her chair. It's still embarrassing to use, but it's so much less embarrassing to do it to herself than to let Gold use it against her. That was just begging for, well, begging. She jumps when she starts it too high and switches it down until the low purr makes her body feel as heavy as his voice does.

"Just," she says, not wanting him to think she's angry and trying not to let her voice hitch at turning it up a level, "just keep on talking, okay?"


End file.
